


Rorschach's Not Gay, but Walter Is

by Not_You



Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Daddykink, Double Penetration in One Hole, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Polyamory Negotiations, Relationship Negotiation, Threesome - M/M/M, references to real world awfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Walter Kovacs has a boyfriend and Rorschach is falling for Nite Owl and it all ends in a triad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The kid comes to him shaking, keyed up and burnt out. Joe knows he's leading some kind of double life, but after being reassured that it has nothing to do with him, he's stopped asking. He figures it would be pretty easy to piece it together, but it's easier to believe Walter and take it on faith. He's a funny guy, as in peculiar, and is one of the most brutally honest people Joe has ever met. There are no track marks on his arms, and he never smells like anything but metal and sweat, so he figures it really isn't any of his business.

Walter's dexterous, pointed little fingers are clutching at Joe's shirt as he hauls himself into his lap, burying his face in his chest and just breathing for a moment. He has nearly a decade, almost a foot, and over fifty pounds on Walter, and is never as surprised as the kid is when he breaks and calls him 'daddy'. He could tell the minute he met him that someone had done a real number on him, and even though they've been together for years at this point, he still doesn't like to talk about it. 

Joe gives him a minute, then cups his face, pushing him away just enough to kiss him. It's always funny that he tastes so sweet with such an acid tongue in his head, and Joe purrs, sliding his tongue into Walter's mouth to taste the sugar he chews constantly and making him whimper. As he shifts, Joe can feel how hard he is. Wherever he vanishes to every couple of nights, it gets him up but not off. Walter is better at ignoring a hardon than anyone Joe has ever known, and that actually includes girls, so it never stops being incredible when he palms him through his threadbare jeans and makes him buck and shudder, breaking the kiss to hide his face in Joe's neck.

"Have a nice night, kiddo?" He purrs, nibbling the tip of Walter's ear to make him squirm.

"Satisfactory."

"I wouldn't say that." A meaningful squeeze, and Walter moans, blushing to the back of his neck as he tries to muffle himself. He's so shy. Sometimes it's cute and sometimes it makes Joe want to dig that whore up and kill her all over again. Not that he'd do a better job of it than the first guy. Drano. Couldn't have happened to a nicer person. For now he rolls his palm against Walter's tiny, erratic movements and bites his shoulder hard. He whimpers and makes no resistance as Joe peels his shirt off. "Come on, kid." He stands, scooping Walter into his arms. 

He jokes sometimes that he took up with someone so pint-sized so he can do things like this even with a bad arm. The Doc might've won them Vietnam, but there wasn't much that could be done about Joe's mangled shoulder. He's on permanent disability because this shit isn't getting any better, but if he holds Walter mostly on his good right side, he can carry him off like a caveman. It helps when Walter clings like he's doing now, tense and light.

"Easy, baby." Joe whispers, feeling the trembling that's running through Walter from being too tense. "You're all right." He presses him down to the thin, institutional grade mattress, then rolls onto his side, letting Walter pluck and claw his shirt off, flinging it aside and then fitting himself in against Joe's chest again, pressing kisses to his hideous, lumpy scar. A proper bullet would have just left it stiff, but explosions tend to be less kind to the human form. He strokes Walter's bright hair, murmuring soothingly as he peels the rest of their clothing off.

Because he can't really prop himself up for more than a minute, Walter usually rides on top. Joe had been surprised that a guy so not okay with being gay was so willing to get fucked. He doesn't question it, though, since he's never really liked being on the bottom. He's sure it would be all right with Walter, since the kid is surprisingly gentle and completely crazy about him, but the logistics would be kind of a bitch and he's glad to just groan as Walter does most of the work. The way he rocks is almost frenzied, and he's fighting to last too hard to not bat Joe's hand away when he tries to touch him, biting his lip and tightening around him so hard it almost hurts.

In the end, neither of them lasts, and they sleep tangled in each other on the dirty sheets, Walter's harsh cry still echoing off the walls. He wakes up far too early and staggers off to work, grabbing the battered tupperware of leftovers that Joe leaves in the fridge for him. Joe doesn't mind being the wife, since he's got nothing else to do. He changes the sheets and sweeps the floor, making himself some coffee before wandering outside. Walter is keenly aware of how dangerous their streets are, and Joe knows he worries. He doesn't say much about it, though, because he knows you can't expect a man to just sit around in a dingy little fourth floor walk-up watching fuzzy black and white TV all day. Joe spends his days walking, since his legs still work and he doesn't want to turn into a miserable fat piece of shit like that guy down the hall who has sunk into his wheelchair and given up completely.


	2. Chapter 2

Dan contemplates his partner for the millionth time. He has no idea where or how he lives, what he does with himself when he's not beating the shit out of evil in a way that leaves Dan's mouth dry with mingled fear and lust, or what he looks like behind his mask. He does know that he thinks there are hidden messages in Disney films, that the water isn't safe, that there really is a Zionist conspiracy, and that the reds were behind Three Mile Island. 

He knows the way he cocks his head when he's curious, and the sounds of his teeth destroying sugar cubes. He knows the fascinating depths of his knowledge of Scripture and mythology, and how the worse the hit is, the less noise he makes. He knows how stubborn he is, and how strangely sweet, at the oddest times and in the weirdest ways. And he's not sure yet, but he's getting the sinking feeling that he has a crush on him. Way more than a crush. It's getting pretty bad, and he wishes Rorschach was just the slightest bit less inscrutable.

Walter can feel Dan's eyes on him and wishes he wasn't such a whore. He wants him so much it hurts, but he'll be damned if he's going to be homosexual and unfaithful at the same time. He growls quietly to himself and crunches another sugar cube. Joe is at home right now, probably making red-eye gravy to have with the last of the ham, holding off on the grits until he sees the whites of Walter's eyes. He waits up, and Walter hates himself for it, even though Joe always tells him that if he was going to demand a signed and stamped schedule for every unaccounted moment of his time, he would have left him by now. He knows he worries. There's no way not to worry in a city so filthy and cruel. He clears his throat, balled up in Archie's passenger seat, willing Dan to fly faster so he can head down the tunnel for home and let Joe stop worrying.

Walter's nose proves his earlier suppositions correct as he comes in, quiet and thoughtful. His suit is neatly folded into a small, flat package, tucked under one arm inside the trenchcoat. His mask is in his pocket, and he feels a warm glow at knowing it's safe there, that Joe never pries. He can hear him in the tiny kitchen, humming "The Burning of the Midnight Lamp", and rounds the corner to see him swaying a little, his bad arm hanging by his side as he stirs the grits. He looked around, smiling in a way that had nothing to do with his mouth and everything to do with his bright, nearly-violet eyes. 

"Heard me on the stairs?"

"Mmhm. Figure you could eat a late supper or an early breakfast?"

"Hungry." He goes and hugs him around the waist, tucking himself under Joe's arm, sighing and feeling better for the contact. The light pressure of his hand on Walter's hip takes the place of the reassuring squeeze he would give him if he could. "Name of meal doesn't matter."

Joe chuckled. "Good. Set the table, wouldja?"

The table was something Joe had found next to a dumpster and lugged home. He had replaced a missing leg with a length of metal pipe, and while it was an ugly, dystopian cyborg of a table, it was real furniture, replacing a cardtable that had collapsed every time either of them had looked at it funny. It went perfectly with the chipped, mismatched plates, the tin mugs, and the bent silverware.

Walter devoured his portion, scarfing it down with his elbows planted on the table to enable shoveling. Joe was the kind of person who would have to trained him better if it had bothered him enough. As it was, Walter wasn't disgusting and didn't spill anything, so it wasn't worth the trouble.

"Sorry to come in so late." Walter muttered, after cleaning his plate for the second time.

"Walter, you're the one who actually has a job to get up for. I've always been a night owl anyway." There's no accounting for the way Walter flinches, and he doesn't like it one bit. He let the silence spool out for a minute so they could both feel how uncomfortable it was. "Is there something I oughta know?"

"No-- yes. Shit." He clutches his head, staring down at his empty plate. "I... All you need to to know is that there's someone I look at more than I should. And that I like more than I should. He's my partner in an ongoing project, and presents a definite temptation."

Joe turns that over for a bit. "I see. What kind of a guy is he?"

"...College boy." Walter mutters. "Very sweet. Smarter than the two of us put together."

"And you haven't done anything about it?" Walter shakes his head. "Scared you might?" He nods, and Joe gets up, walking around the table to put his right arm around the kid, using his still semi-functional elbow to get his left hand onto the back of Walter's neck, rubbing slowly. "I know you love me, boy. And there's no charge for lookin'."


	3. Chapter 3

This isn't the way he wanted to find out about Rorschach's personal life. Getting to a mugging turned murder too late is bad. Really bad. It's the worst thing in the world, and then Rorschach gets a better look at the victim and it all gets worse. He chokes on something that must be a name, oh god Rorschach knows the guy. The way he screams is something Dan will never be able to unhear, and even though it was two on one, probably the only way they could manage it, since the guy is (was) pretty big, even if the white flecks stand out against his black hair enough for Dan to see them, he has to hold his partner back from murder. 

Rorschach struggles like a feral cat, still screaming, lunging for this unconscious opponents, gloved hands hooking into claws, like he wants to tear out their eyes, slice their pricks off for trophies, or do any of the thousand horrible things war widows have done to the bodies of the enemy. Dan has lifted him off the ground and it's all he can do to hang on, trying not to get kicked too hard. It's understandable that neither of them notices immediately when the corpse sits up.

"Wa--" And Dan suddenly knows that Rorschach's real name is Warren or Walter or Wallace or Warner, as his partner goes limp in his arms. "Rorschach. I'm all right."

Joe stands up painfully, because he had his ass whupped to a degree he is way too old for, but is pretty much all right. "They call it playing possum back home, boys." He leans on the wall panting, and Dan lets out a laugh that's a little hysterical, but mostly life-affirming, and lets Walter or Wallace or Warren go. It definitely isn't Rorschach that plows into the guy's arms and clings to him. Dan feels a sharp pang, in that special, personal way where an infatuation is disappointed not by finding out that the guy is straight, but by finding out he's gay, but taken. It's the most bittersweet way to lose a guy, and he really is happy for them.

"Why not call it a night, kiddo?" He murmurs, stroking the mask like his massive hand is familiar with whatever hair is under it. "We can talk when you get home. I'm not mad."

"Seriously." They both look sharply at Dan and Jesus, the guy's eyes, even at a time like this he has to admit that Rorschach knows how to pick 'em. "You are not walking home. Jesus." He digs around in his belt, and comes up with a wad of bills. Everyone laughs at him for carrying cash, but being able to press cab fare into the hands of Rorschach's lover to get him safely home makes it all worth it, and proves his original point anyway. 

He looks at the money for a moment, and Dan is sure he isn't going to take it. He's wearing a fatigue jacket over a torn t-shirt, with ancient workpants rolled up over combat boots, and there's a fierceness to the lines of his stubbled face that suddenly makes him seem like a perfect match for the man behind Rorschach's mask. Dan can see the moment when he decides that under the circumstances, charity can be offered and taken without mortally injuring his pride, and his hand (the same size as Dan's in the gauntlets, and that's a bad thought to have right now) closes around the folded bills.

"Thanks, man. Take care of him for me."

"Don't worry."

Rorschach doesn't say anything, but escorts him out of the alley to catch a cab, melting into the shadows but not leaving until Joe is safely on his way. Dan is trussing up the muggers on autopilot, wishing that his roiling gut would settle on one of the hot, sick emotions battling for dominance.

"Daniel..."

"Go home." He can't look at him, can't show whatever is on his face to Rorschach who gets to hide behind his inkblots. "Go home. Stop pretending to be the mask and go home and hold him. This doesn't change anything. Just take the night off." He's lying, because this changes everything and the both know it, but Rorschach just says, "Thank you, Daniel." and walks away, gloved hands in his pockets.


	4. Chapter 4

Joe is at the the table when Walter comes in, still shivering and staring down into his mug. It's milk. They don't keep liquor in the house because ever since 'Nam Joe has had a bit of a problem with it. Nothing real bad, and he figures he doesn't count as a real alkie because any bender he's on ends when he's out of liquor, but Walter hates to see him drunk. He figures it has a lot to do with the mangler of a childhood spat him out so quiet and idiosyncratically broken at Joe's feet, but now he really, really wants something stronger than milk.

"Joe." Walter croaks, shutting the door behind him.

He looks around, and the anxious look on Walter's face hurts. "Baby, I said I wasn't mad, and I'm not. Come here." He holds out his good arm and a moment later Walter is in his lap, curled up in a tight ball. "I understand why you didn't tell me. The fewer people know, the better off you are." Walter nods, and Joe kisses the top of his head. "Now that I know, though, I'm staying in the loop if I can. If there's any way to help, I wanna know it, all right?" Walter hesitates, then nods. Joe sighs, hugging him tightly with the one arm that can manage it. "I'm sorry I scared you so bad, Walter."

"Effective strategy. Discretion is the better part of valor." Walter takes his left hand, gently pulling Joe's bad arm around him and holding it there.

"Love you." He murmurs.

"Love you, too." Walter's voice cracks, and Joe feels the same sense of victory he does every time. Walter having someone to say that to in the first place and actually being able to spit the words out at all is such a blue-eyed miracle that he doubts he'll ever quite get over it.

"Now, kiddo. Tell me about Rorschach."

Walter swallows, and begins. Joe knows about the Charlton home, and he knows some of how Walter took the news about Kitty Genovese. He had come in while Walter was reading the article over and over, dead white under his freckles. "I know her." He had said, and somehow, when he had taken out that unwanted dress, Joe had been about the least surprised man on earth. Walter had gone and closeted himself with it in the bedroom, which was the only privacy in the place besides the bathroom, and Joe had let him alone. There were times when it paid off to follow Walter when he was like that, but they were few and far between. Joe had left him to it, certain that whatever ritual he was performing, it was something intensely private and just as painful.

Walter had always disappeared, so the upswing in his rate of absence wasn't as noticeable as it would be in hindsight. And Joe had approved of Rorschach. Jesus could go ahead and turn the other cheek. Joe had fragged his C.O. and only had nightmares about what the bastard had done to deserve it. He understood Rorschach, he just hadn't realized how well. He held Walter tightly.

"Walter?"

"Yes?"

"This mask shit is a young man's game, but if you need a lookout or a decoy or anything..."

"You've seen the way I would react if anything happened to you. I'd call that a liability."

"Then maybe I can work with Nite Owl." Walter blushes, and Joe laughs, drumming his heels on the floor. "Jesus, I don't know how you stand it! I could eat him with a spoon."

"Gorgeous." Walter concedes, slumping defeated on Joe's arm.


	5. Chapter 5

The first time he sends Joe to scout for him, Dan feels like he's playing with another child's Most Special Thing: anxious because it's something delicate that must be kept in perfect condition, and joyous because it's something fantastic and well worth keeping. Joe can go anywhere, and he has a knack for turning himself into part of the wallpaper. No one ever seems to see him. How they miss him, Dan can't possibly understand, and it's actually Rorschach who explains, terse as ever: "Don't see him. Just see the wear." And Dan wants to ask him how they met, but he doesn't dare.

The thing that seems to surprise even Rorschach a little is Joe's theatrical aptitude. The first time they follow him up, they don't even see him until it's all over, and it's not until they're looking around stupidly that the heap of refuse beside the dumpster resolves itself into a grungy old man, who stands and tosses his 'PLEASE HELP. GOD BLESS." sign aside and straightens up into Joe.

"Over here, Watson." He grins and Dan's heart nearly stops. He doesn't know how the hell you can look at this guy and only see the wear.

"...Where did you get the sign?"

He pulls a sharpie out of his pocket and jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the dumpster. "If I say 'elementary', kick my ass."

"You know, he never said it." Dan says, zip-tying their beaten foes. "Not once." Rorschach just hurms, helping him.

Walter has a deep affection for Sherlock Holmes, because it was some of the first real reading he had ever done, and the first thing he and Joe had in common. Dan would not have been surprised to learn that Joe had hunted Walter carefully. The amount of soft, sweet, and insidious convincing it had taken was staggering, and as far as Joe was concerned, worth every minute. He had gone in to a get a suit altered, an errand which had struck him as ludicrous, given his wardrobe and general habits, but also morbidly appropriate, since he needs to look presentable for a depressingly wide round of funerals. He hadn't wanted to think about funerals, so he had talked literature with the kid taking his measurements, a funny-looking little guy with The Hound of the Baskervilles in his back pocket, whose bony hands flew in a way that was sort of mesmerizing to watch.

Now, he laughs. "Damn straight, he didn't."

Walter can suddenly see the two of them locked in an embrace, see the way Dan would have to crane his neck and stumble back a little, rearranging himself to kiss someone taller as he grabbed at the back of Joe's jacket. Walter has a feeling that Dan would enjoy razor burn, and he's glad that no one can see him blush under the mask.

Walter only unmasks because of Joe. The awareness that he and Walter know everything about Dan while he knows next to nothing about them nags at him, and he doesn't hesitate to pass it on. It's not fair, and it's not right. Dan stitches their wounds, puts them up, and feeds them both, no questions asked. In the face of such genuine and gentlemanly kindnesses as not just following them some night or looking up Joe's military records, Joe feels that it's about time he met Walter Kovacs.

The night Walter finally peels off his black and white second skin is a dismal, rainy one. Archie is bobbing on the turbulent air in a way that would make Joe sick if he let it. As it is, he's sucking on hard candy and sipping water, watching the rain run down the huge front windows.

"Daniel." Rorschach rasps.

"Yeah?" He glances over, and Joe wants to laugh, because he can tell how far away he just was. Dan's soft dreaminess charms him as much as it annoys Walter.

"Feel you should know who I am." He grumbles. "A certain party with whom we are both acquainted has been laying it on pretty thick, but he's right."

"Oh. Oh, you don't have to! It's all right, really!"

"No." He pulls of the mask easily, his hands only shaking a little. Joe knows better than anyone how godawful homely Walter is, and he's glad when Dan's stare is so obviously pure surprise that this is happening at all.

"...Hi." He holds out a hand to shake.

"Walter Kovacs." Walter whispers, finding this somehow even harder than he thought it would be.

"Y'know, I knew you were a redhead. Your stubble is ginger, after all." He looks almost dazed.

Walter blushes. "Too smart not to notice things like that." He looks down at the mask, and Joe leans over to squeeze his shoulder, telling him without words that he's proud of him. Walter tugs the mask on again, tucking it up over the bridge of his nose and instantly becoming more comfortable. "I'm an Aries and I sew for a living."

"That explains your mask. And your hands. You know, I thought you might actually be a surgeon for a while?" Walter's blush gets worse, and Joe chuckles, kissing him softly. They don't do this in front of Dan very often, but he looks like he could use one. He breaks it off quickly and Walter yanks his mask down, but looks a little calmer. "You know I don't mind, right?" Dan murmurs, staring out the window ahead. "I'm glad you guys have each other, and I want you comfortable with me." Walter swallows hard, and Joe grins.

A gang fight breaks them out of their shared reverie, and Walter is happy to fling himself into it with fists and feet, forgetting everything in the sharp, percussive symphony of violence that follows.


	6. Chapter 6

Joe has been waiting for something to give for weeks now. It's not affecting their ability to work together, amazingly enough, but the atmosphere aboard Archie and in the Nest and in Dan's kitchen is thick with it. It's worse than when Walter decides to tease him, pinning Joe's hips and sliding on him slow and shameless enough to make him beg. He hasn't had this many awkward hard-ons since high school, and judging by Nite Owl's slight and nearly-constant limp, the poor bastard is having the same problem, only under a cup so it's nine times worse.

It's a cold, rainy day when Joe comes walking up the tunnel. Walter is out patrolling with his usual crazy dedication, but Nite Owl has taken the night off to overhaul his gear, and doesn't look up, recognizing him by the cadence of his walk. "Hey, Joe."

"Don't have a gun, ain't goin' nowhere." Joe mutters, holding his bad shoulder.

"If you go to Mexico, take me with you."

"God, I wish." He groans, coming up to lean on the workbench, still clutching his bad shoulder as he has the whole way here, cursing every time something has jarred it, making the dull ache spread. It was the shoulder that had driven him out of the apartment on a night like this. He hadn't been able to sleep, and had prowled the place like a wounded tiger. After taking three aspirin and feeling no better, he had grabbed his coat and gotten walking. He had been hoping to run into Walter somewhere, but had made it all the way to the Nest instead. Now he can see the concern in Dan's eyes, and grins like a friendly dog. "It's just stiff in the rain."

"Looks like it hurts." Dan murmurs, automatically and timidly plucking at his wet coat.

Joe obligingly slithers out of it, wincing. "Okay, so it hurts."

Dan smiles slightly, touching it gently. "Anything I can do to help?"

And of course there is, and by the time Walter shows up he's sitting on the workbench with his shirt off, trying not to groan as Dan massages the pain out of his shoulder. He hadn't realized how deep the cold, sick ache of it had gotten, and Dan's hands are like heavy sunshine. He feels like a cat basking on a windowsill, but looks up sharply at Walter's hoarse sound of surprise. He hasn't taken the mask off, so Joe can only guess at his expression as he stands frozen at the tunnel mouth.

"Walter Joseph Kovacs, don't you dare run back down that tunnel." Joe says sternly, beckoning him over with his working arm as Dan lets go and steps back. Walter obeys, his body tense as he allows Joe to wrap his arm around his waist, pulling him in between his knees to gently peel off his mask. Walter gasps as if he has been submerged until now, and stares at him with wide eyes. Joe sighs, cupping his chin in one hand. "Boys" he says, speaking to Dan as well without looking at him, "I am too old for this."

"T-too old for what?" Dan asks, sounding far out of his depth.

"This pussy-footing around. Walter, you're allowed to kiss him. Am I?"

"Only fair that way." He blushes, twisting his mask in his hands like an anxious woman with a dishcloth. "Want to watch." Joe smiles, and presses a light kiss to his lips before twisting back and grabbing Dan's shirt. He pulls him down and kisses him deep and slow, listening to him whimper as his stubble scratches his face. Walter is trembling as he watches, and Joe releases Dan so that he can nearly lunge across the bench, struggling to pull Walter close as he devours his mouth, kissing the hinge of his jaw and the side of his neck, whispering something neither of them can catch against his shoulder. Joe swallows.

"Guys?"

"Yes?" Dan whispers, as Walter looks up, gloved fingers tangled in his hair.

Joe chuckles. "Should we go somewhere more comfortable, maybe?"

"Oh. Yeah, there's..." Dan forces himself to push away from Walter, and leads them upstairs. His bedroom is cozy, with a complicated mobile partially assembled on the desk, and a huge bed that they're all glad to tumble onto, Walter tugging Dan between them. Joe growls and sinks his teeth into Dan's shoulder as Walter kisses him again, their hands running into each other before they team up to haul his shirt off.


	7. Chapter 7

Dan has never done this before, and cannot quite believe that he's doing it now. It seems physically impossible, and feels a little that way too. Maybe a lot, and he wails again as Joe does something short and sharp that makes them all gasp. Dan hadn't thought they would both fit. He had blushed and laughed and squirmed when Walter had sat back to study him, and whimpered helplessly as Joe had started sliding fingers in beside his cock.

He's on his side now, Joe wrapped around his back and Walter pressed to his chest, both of them buried deep inside him. The stretch is almost unbearable, and as their two cocks rub along each other, it burns. Dan knows he's going to be sore for days, and he doesn't care. Their hands are all over him, stroking and soothing as he bucks and wails, the sounds raw-edged with sobs. When Joe had softly asked Dan if it was too much, he had whimpered that it was, and had begged them not to stop.

Joe groans into his ear, feeling like he'll die if he doesn't come soon, and lightly bites the shell like edge, licking and feeling Dan twitch in response to each pass of his tongue. Walter is covering his chest in sharp little bites that look like they kind of actually hurt maybe really a lot, Jesus, but Dan is pressing into it, one hand clutching at Walter's hair to keep him there, so he must like it. His hips are bucking, and he groans something that could be "harder", his leg stretching back over Joe's hip, trying to open himself even more for them, his back arching as he twines his free arm around Joe's neck.

Walter latches onto one nipple and bites so hard it makes Joe shudder and wince to watch, but Dan just mewls weakly, his eyes rolling back in his head. He tries to tighten around them and cries out in pain, shooting precome and shuddering all over, sobbing desperately when Joe slides a hand down his belly and over his hipbones, carefully avoiding his cock, which is now leaking constantly, rock hard and quivering with Dan's heartbeat.

"Oh god, please," Dan whimpers, "please, please, please..." Joe wraps his calloused hand around him, feeling how delicate and perfectly soft the skin is, nearly as slick as a woman. It hardly takes more than a few seconds before Dan is coming, pulsing in Joe's hand with a long, ragged scream because every contraction of his muscles hurts, and every stab of pain just makes it better. Walter follows Dan, unable to help himself at the sight of his partner so debauched and undone, groaning deep in his chest and biting Dan's shoulder to muffle himself. He slides out, and Dan whimpers and shivers as Joe very gently continues to move.

He's incredibly sore, but it still feels kind of good to let Joe slowly rock inside him. It's almost soothing, and he feels only half awake as he pulls Walter into his arms, cuddling him as he trembles every now and then, both of them listening to Joe's soft, harsh breathing. It breaks into a low moan a moment later, and he clings to Dan as he grinds against him, pressing his face to the back of his neck. "Fuck." He finally whispers, and kisses him softly, carefully pulling out. Dan moans contentedly, and Walter purrs when Joe kisses his shoulder. "So. All in favor of doing this again sometime, say aye." They all mumble their assent in perfect groggy, blissed-out unison, and snicker like kids as they drift off.


	8. Chapter 8

It's been about a year, and Joe is running as fast as his legs can carry him. He's got a vicious stitch in each side and a more worrying pain in his chest, but his feet are still moving fast enough to blur, a picture of a little girl burning a hole in the pocket over his heart. Rorschach is on the wrong track, and Joe wishes to god he wasn't deep in this maze of alleys that's only navigable on foot. He trips, sprawls headlong, and is up so fast it's like he bounces off the concrete. He's so fucking glad he had Dan make these tracking devices. He runs headlong around a corner to find the little blip marked 'R'.

Rorschach is standing by a burn barrel, twisting a junkie's arm in unnatural ways. "Drop it!" Joe barks. "No time!" He leans against the wall, wheezing, one hand pressed to his frantic heart. "Found the guy this asshole gave her to."

Rorschach throws his whimpering victim down carelessly and calls Dan, feeding him the address as Joe gasps it out. Within minutes they're all at Archie's helm, all grimly silent. Joe has told them what kind of guy Grice is, and they all know there's going to be murder done if anything has happened to the kid. Walter is humming with tension, and Joe's hand on his shoulder only helps a little. They find the right building and drop to the roof. A little girl's thin, piping shriek freezes the blood in their veins and there's no stopping Rorschach as he bounds down the stairs like a deer. 

Grice is in the kitchen, and Blair is crammed into a small cupboard, clutching a massive knife, sweeping it back and forth in the space between them and screaming again as Grice tries to touch her. Dan and Joe are right behind him as he tackles his quarry and roars like a pint-sized lion, slamming his head into the floor with crazed strength. They're expecting to have to pull him off, but he leaves the dazed man to them, going to Blair, who is staring at him in wide-eyed, open-mouthed horror. She's too scared to scream and the knife trembles in her little hands. 

The only sound is heavy breathing, and then the voice of Walter Kovacs as he peels off Rorschach's skin, murmuring, "It's all right, honey. It's only a mask." She nods. "Your mom and dad sent me, Blair. They told me to tell you Princess misses you, and that you'd know what that meant."

The kid must know, because she drops the knife and flings her arms around Walter's neck, crying now that it's all over. He looks kind of confused as he clumsily scoops her up into his arms, but like he's so happy he can't bear to feel it yet. Dan grins from ear to ear as he cuffs Grice and radios the police, and Joe laughs weakly, slumping against the chopping block in exhausted relief. Blair looks around with big eyes as Walter holds her tightly and talks softly to her about anything and everything that comes into his head. He asks her questions about home. Princess turns out to be her cat, who comes when she's called and has never, ever scratched her.

It seems like forever before they can leave. Blair won't let go of Rorschach, so they decide hell with it, they can take her back just as well as the cops. Aboard Archie she gets too curious to be afraid, and pretty soon she's playing with Nite Owl's snowsuit, one little hand still clutching Rorschach's lapel as they speed toward home. 

They land on the roof of her building, and slip into the main hall, Joe and Nite Owl each one step behind and one out from Rorschach, forming a little honor guard. Rorschach's mask is back on, because he had explained to Blair that he had to keep it on if he wanted to keep doing his work. It's apparently all right now because she knows what's under it. They're looking for 4B, and Rorschach shifts Blair to his hip to knock on the door when they find it.

The kid's dad opens up, and Joe gets a little emotional. Dan gets a lot emotional, his face in his hand as he leans against the wall. Mr. Roche is clutching the kid like a life preserver and yelling for his wife to come and see. And she does, and Rorschach seems to have something stuck in his throat, and sniffles audibly when Joe puts an arm around his shoulders.

"Come on, kiddo." Rorschach nods, and they go quietly, not really wanting to be thanked. It seems sort of gratuitous and embarrassing. Dan catches Rorschach's hand, and they leave like tired children, Blair's parents too distracted to detain them. Flying home, Walter sits with Nite Owl's snowsuit in his lap, stroking the white fur and looking like he isn't sure what to do. He always has a hard time coming up with a response when things go right.


	9. Chapter 9

Changing in the Owl's Nest is uncomfortably ceremonial, and he isn't surprised to see Walter save his mask for last. Dan seems almost relieved to shed Nite Owl, and Joe grins as he exchanges his goggles for glasses. Soon, they're all basking in the warmth of the kitchen, drawn there like moths to a flame. Walter is still tense, and leans against Dan, a mug of syrupy coffee held cupped in his hands. He blinks when Joe pulls out a skillet.

“Not hungry.”

“Too bad. You haven’t eaten in sixteen hours and you’re gonna eat now if I have to cram it down your neck, sugar.”

Dan snorts, and kisses the top of Walter’s head. “And you know I’ll help him.”

Walter mutters but makes no real objection as Joe puts together breakfast, and soon the three of them are gathered around the table. Walter suddenly realizes that he is hungry after all, and works his way through three plates of eggs, hashbrowns and toast before stumbling off to bed. Dan smiles, and helps Joe clear the table. He’s glowing, and it suits him so well that halfway through washing the dishes Joe has to back him into the wall and pin him there, kissing him hard and slow, as if he wants to memorize him. Dan whimpers, letting his dishcloth drop to the floor and knotting one wet hand into Joe’s shirt as he kisses back frantically. When he does this to Walter, the kid just melts completely and lets Joe take him, and he savors the contrast as Dan growls and fights back. He slides a leg between Dan’s for him to rock on, and listens to him moan almost inaudibly in his ear, breathless and flushed.

“Need to work it off, don’t you?” He murmurs, nipping Dan’s ear. The way he squeaks is as undignified as it is endearing, and he smiles. “Go see if Walter’s asleep, and I’ll finish the dishes.” Dan grins and heads off.

“Walter?” He asks softly, standing in the doorway. “You awake, buddy?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Dan grins and crawls in beside him, wrapping around him from behind. “Joe and I are still kind of flying, so we were gonna take the bed.”

“Is this a private party or can anybody come?”

“You pun appalls me, but at least possesses the saving grace of being vulgar.”

He. . . giggles, really there’s no other word for it and it’s cute as hell, and Dan realizes that even with all his issues he’s as drunk as they are. It’s not really a giddy feeling, it’s just so deep and so strong that it promotes a few symptoms of hysteria. Dan rolls Walter onto his back and pulls off his oversized t-shirt, beaming down at him before swooping down to cover him in kisses.

When Dan doesn’t come back fairly sharpish Joe grins, correctly interpreting the delay, and goes after him, leaving a gleaming kitchen in his wake. His footfalls are as silent as a cat’s, and he pauses at the door. It’s open a crack, and he looks in to see them tangled up in each other and the sheets. Walter’s face is pressed to Dan’s chest, and he’s making those tiny little squeaks that let Joe know how Dan’s first two fingers are working into him as well as if he could see it through the blanket. Dan’s other arm is locked around him, holding him almost too tight. Their legs twine together like they were made as complementary pieces of one thing. He grins, and opens the door. Dan looks up lazily, and smiles at him in a dark side of the moon kind of way he’s only seen on women. He grins back, and crawls in on the other side of Walter. He knows they’re feeling the same need to surround him, to cover him and warm him up and rock him to sleep because praise Alabama cracker Jesus, it’s over. 

He kisses the back of Walter’s neck and then sucks two fingers into his mouth, getting them good and wet before sliding one in beside Dan’s, making him gasp and Walter mewl shakily, wrapping one leg back and around Joe, drawing him even closer.

“Hush, baby.” He murmurs, his accent coming out of the woodwork. “We’ll take care of you.” Dan kisses him over Walter’s head as he grinds down on their fingers and Joe purrs into his mouth. 

“Fuck…” Dan whispers fervently, as Walter bites his collarbone. There is a moment of unanimous and telepathic agreement, and Joe grabs the lube, his bad arm stiff and clumsy. He sits up against the headboard and pulls Walter into his lap, nibbling his ear as he slicks them both up, Walter trembling, his eyes wide and dark. Dan helps him raise his hips, and holds him open for Joe to slide in. Even though no one’s touching Dan he’s already panting softly, overwhelmed with tenderness and lust and relief. Walter wails, the sound sharp and hungry, and Joe shudders all over, burying his face Walter’s hair as his hips start to rock, strong and slow as the ocean. His good arm is locked tight around Walter’s chest, and the hand of his bad one fans over his belly, enjoying the way the rock hard muscles there quiver. 

Walter lets out one of his pleading, formless noises, suddenly bucking and jerking as though trying to get away, moaning when Joe just holds him tighter and Dan licks the back of his knee, running loving, greedy hands up his thigh and biting a trail after them. Walter makes a few tiny grinding noises in his throat, looking slightly desperate when his lips part and nothing comes out. He’s as red as his hair, suddenly tense and almost suspended, trembling between them. Dan looks up at his tormented face, not sure what to do until Joe’s hand wraps around Walter’s cock and his freckled chest heaves, his stuttering breath forcing the utterance out of his throat.

“D-daddy!” He sobs, turning his head to try to hide his face in Joe’s shoulder. He’s breathing almost too fast, the sound rasping as if he really is about to cry, one hand knotted into Joe’s hair, the nails of the other digging into Dan’s shoulder. “Harder, daddy, please!” His voice breaks into a helpless whimper.

“It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got you.’ He kisses Walter’s neck and rubs slow circles over his heart, thrusting deep and hard as he looks down at Dan to see how he’s taking this, which has never happened in his bed before. His eyes are wide and shocked, his face flushed.

“Ohgod.” He whimpers, pressing his face to Walter’s inner thigh. “Oh god, you’re both so… oh fuck, I…” 

Realizing he won’t be able to finish a sentence, he just wraps his mouth around Walter’s cock and groans, sucking him deeply and shaking when he wails, his heels digging into Dan’s back. Walter claws at him, mewling as Joe pounds into him and drives him deeper into Dan’s wet mouth, choking him and muffling his moans. He looks up at them both so pleadingly that Joe winds a hand into his hair, pulling hard and making him whine and rut against the mattress.


	10. Chapter 10

Walter can’t possibly stand much more of this, and doesn’t, letting out a broken, keening wail as he coats Dan’s tongue in days of not even wanting to kiss, let alone come. It’s a lot to swallow, but he does his best, shuddering as Joe murmurs reassurances into Walter’s ear, that it’s okay, that it’s over, that they love him. Neither of them is much surprised when he starts to cry, right there with Joe still inside him, sniffling and trying to hide his face. 

Dan crawls up and kisses away his tears, murmuring, “Ssshh. Hey, it’s all right.” as he strokes Walter’s hair and kisses his cheek. He suddenly trembles and whines as Joe slides a hand down his cock, the touch slow, hard, and assured. “Oh fuck, Joe…” He buries his face in Walter’s shoulder and groans quietly, melting even more at the feeling of those skinny arms wrapping around him and holding him tightly. They stay like that for a little while, but pretty soon Walter slides off and curls up with Joe’s bad arm around him, his head tucked in against the collarbone past the worst of the scarring, which still hurts if pressed too hard for too long.

Dan smiles down at them, where they’re comfortably slouched against the headboard. “Still hard, at your age.” He murmurs, rubbing the head of Joe’s cock against himself in the most exasperating fucking way. Tiny, slow circles, spreading the lube and driving him nuts.

“Take you over my knee like the grumpy old man if I am if you don’t—“ He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, words turning into a deep, happy groan as Dan finally stops messing around and sinks down onto him.

“D-do that anyway?” Dan whispers, flushed and trembling as he rocks his hips, and Joe laughs breathlessly.

“Fuck, anything you want, kid.” Dan moans, and bites Joe’s neck, whining helplessly as Walter’s hand slides between them to stroke his cock. He cries out when he comes, so hot and tight and lost that he pulls Joe along with him, and his arm is like iron as he holds Dan’s hips down, fucking into him as deep as he can, growling. Dan whimpers and wriggles slightly, making Joe hiss before he pulls out, panting. “Whee, Jesus.” He finally breathes, exhausted, and Walter laughs. Dan grins goofily down at them, looking about fifty IQ points short and absolutely adorable as he carefully collapses. 

It takes a while before any of them can move, but eventually everything is just too damn sticky, so Dan remakes the bed while Walter and Joe take the first shower. He’s done before they are, and the shower is massive, so he just blunders through a white wilderness of steam to join them. They don’t speak, all of them helpfully washing each other long after they’re clean, until Walter’s fatigue catches up with him and he’s leaning on Joe with his eyes closed, looking like a little boy.

Dan spots them as Joe heaves Walter up into his good arm, barely able to hold him since he’s nearly dead weight and Joe is so weak with his own exertions. But he hauls him out and dries him off, cooing soft, syrupy endearments into his ear. He wouldn’t be caught dead doing this normally, nor would Walter tolerate it, but now he leans against him with one hand loosely curled around the back of his neck like he can’t bear to not be touching him. He obviously still wants to be daddy’s baby, and Joe plays along. Poor little guy deserves it, after the week he’s had. He finally nuzzles Walter’s mostly dry hair, and then leads his stumbling little somnambulist along to bed, tucking him into the middle and crawling in after him, wrapping around his back. He’s dozing when the lights go out, the change making him blink to wakefulness. 

“Hey.”

Dan smiles, crawling in from the other side. “Hey.” He’s still faintly damp, but warm, and he settles back against Walter, who wraps his arms around him and makes a happy noise in his sleep. Joe shocks himself completely by starting to cry. He doesn’t do it very well, since he’s out of practice, and feels ridiculous as he tries to keep it down so he won’t wake Walter. “Joe?” Dan turns in Walter’s arms to look at him. “Are you okay?”

He nods, still snivelling a little. “Y-yeah. I just… Fuck, it would’ve broken him.” He grits his teeth, swallowing a sob. “And he’s lying here all safe and warm and happy and that little girl is at home right now and dammit, that almost didn’t happen.” He hugs Walter tightly, and shivers when Dan reaches across and squeezes his shoulder. “I know it’s fucking stupid…”

“Sshh. A lot of people only freak out once it’s over.” Dan murmurs to him and passes him some tissues and pretty soon Joe is realizing how fucking tired he is, himself. He falls asleep with Dan running his fingers through his hair, telling him he did good, and that it’s all okay now.


End file.
